It Comes in Yellow, Too
by Otterskin
Summary: 500 years after Ragnarök, the Asgardians are still wandering the universe looking for a home. Loki returns from a mission and has a quiet homecoming with his family, including his niece. She's just seen a very amusing play and has some awkward questions.


**LOKI**

* * *

"I liked the play. It was very funny."

Ironically, Ragna's little yellow face was utterly solemn as she said that.

"Yes, well…tragedy often is, in retrospect," Loki replied.

"That explains much about our lives," Thor laughed, throwing an arm around his brother. "It's good to have you back. How did it go?"

Loki looked to where the actors were still taking their bows on set."Of course it went well, I could trade a sack of rocks for a king's favourite daughter if left to speak long enough. Did you _really_ organize another showing of that play just for my homecoming? Just for today?"

Thor started steering them away from the stage and towards his home on the edge of the settlement. "Of course not just for today." He patted Loki's shoulder comfortingly. "It's going to run for at least a week, otherwise why expend so much effort putting it together? We can see it again tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that…"

"You really are the worst, Brother."

"I only have one example to learn from, Brother," Thor teased.

Ragna raised her arms in the motion for 'up', her face stern. "Uncle Loki!"

Thor smiled. "Ragna, you're getting too big for that. You know your Uncle is not as strong as I am -"

"Are you trying to make me jealous of your ability to be a beast of burden? That aside, just because I am not built like a horse does not mean I am incapable of imitation." Loki stooped down, then scooped Ragna onto one shoulder. Her arms quickly wrapped around his head, and her long mane of hair immediately began to tickle his nose.

"See, Brother?" he managed to disguise the strain of his words with a grunt. "She weighs as much as a sunbeam."

"You're walking faster," observed Thor wryly.

"It's been a long journey, and I am eager for supper," Loki countered. "What is Idona cooking?" he asked innocently.

"One of your favourites - Roast Quail with Apple Sauce and Onions. with some substitutes. Miniature _Quakka_ birds instead of quails, squashed _ja-ja-lum_ berries instead of applesauce, and potatoes instead of onions."

"That is…what we always have."

"It's what grows here," Thor shrugged. "But we did arrange differently."

Loki tried to re-adjust Ragna surreptitiously. "Thank you, I suppose."

"Why aren't you blue?" Ragna asked loudly. "The boy in the play was blue. That was you, wasn't it?"

Both men blinked and lost a step in their easy pace. Thor looked to Loki, clearly intending to let him answer. It was a nice gesture, but he couldn't help a pang of panic and resentment towards no one in particular. Thor clearly hadn't thought through the repercussions of staging that play again - it was five hundred years ago, why could he not let that go? Of course Loki still told stories of how Thor had croaked for a week after mother had made Loki change him back, so of course he'd -

Ragna spoke again. "Did you grow out of it? Were you only blue when you were little?"

Loki managed to find his voice again, although when he spoke, it was as if some bystander were saying the words, and he merely nodding along. "In a manner of speaking - "

Ragna interrupted. "So will I grow out of being yellow? Is it the same?" She stuck out her hand and inspected it.

Loki snuck a look at Thor's face. A crease had appeared there. He looked from Ragna to Loki, clearly torn between wanting to speak and wishing to allow Loki the chance, first.

"No," Loki said quickly, before Thor's indecision wore off. "No, I don't think so, Ragna. It's not the same. Besides," he shifted into a lighter tone "-you're already a very pretty girl. I wouldn't want one thing about you to change."

"I want to get bigger," she pouted. "I'm too small."

"Well, if you eat your miniature _quakkas_ tonight, you certainly will get bigger," Loki promised, a touch too eagerly. The conversation had nearly been diverted -

"I'm glad. I like being yellow. I'm like a flower." she smiled, raising her hands up to the sun (while Loki tightened his grip on her legs as she leaned back). Small lights travelled up and down her arms, just under the skin.

"A lovely flower," agreed Loki, while Thor visibly relaxed. "A very special one."

"Thank you." Ragna replied automatically. "But why isn't it the same? Flowers come in lots of colours. I've seen blue ones and red ones and purples ones and yellow ones and they're really the same kind. And you're my Uncle."

_God rot,_ Loki sighed internally. _So close. We were about to just be able to shove dinner in our mouths and negate the ability for speech._

"Do you remember how the play began, Ragna?" He started carefully.

"Yes, there was a very boring bit where the fake-you talked for ages and ages and ages about how sad he was. His hair did fall off for a bit though, that was very funny. His real hair was red and it stuck out sometimes."

Loki shot Thor a look.

"It was a rushed production, I only got word you'd be back three days ago," Thor laughed. "You can be assured 'tighter wig' will be on the list of things you need to trade for next time."

Loki shifted Ragna's weight again. "No, the bit after that. With…the boy on the rock."

Ragna nodded. "Yes, that was Ingvi. He was very itchy. Is Yodel-vine an itchy place?"

"That was probably the ja-ja-lum berry juice, Ragna. All we could get to turn him blue on short notice," Thor said quickly.

"Well, in the…real version of events…I wasn't the same age as Ingvi, or even your age. I was a baby." Loki continued, continuing to distance himself from his words. "My father…found me, there. And took me home."

"I know, I know," Ragna protested. "You said all of that a long time ago. But you didn't say you were _blue,"_ She was indignant, as if that was the best part.

"Well, I suppose I was. I was too young to remember. My father…changed how I appeared. And then a little later I met my brother and my mother. That is not the usual order one comes to know one's family in. So you see, though I am your Uncle, Ragna, we do not…we do not look alike or share blood. I was from a planet called Jötunheim, like you saw in the play. Your father is an Asgardian, and your mother was from a planet called Mobius. And so we aren't the same."

Thor reached over and plucked Ragna off of Loki's shoulders. Loki stifled a sigh of relief as his brother placed Ragna back on the ground. She still looking puzzled.

"I don't understand. I don't look like anyone else, not just you. And I don't share blood with anyone, that's gross."

Loki continued walking."'Blood' is just another way of saying 'genetics'. When you have children, you pass down traits." he explained. "Your father passed down his traits to you, as did your mother. I am neither Asgardian nor Mobian, and so we are not related by blood."

His stomach was starting to clench. _It's been over five hundred years since I put this in a play to share with the masses. You'd think this would have gotten easier._

"But you have the same Pabbi and Amma as my Pabbi." she protested. "That's why you look like them, even if you looked like someone else before. So you're the same."

This was veering very near dangerous 'where babies come from' territory, and _that_ particular unpleasant conversation he was determined to leave completely to Thor.

"That's not _quite_ how it works…you can't change your biology, even if you change parents. My…_original_ father passed down…my genetics. My _adoptive_ father, your grandfather, used a powerful spell to make it appear I had always been one of the Aesir. But that didn't actually…change anything underneath."

Ragna nodded, seeming to understand. "So it's pretend. Like in the play. You're a pretend Uncle, not a real one."

Loki's walk stumbled. _What is it with children and stepping directly into wasp nests?_ He wondered distantly.

Thor had stopped walking. "No. No, Ragna, it is not pretend, like in the play. Loki is my real brother, which means he's your real Uncle."

Ragna looked non-plussed. "But sometimes you throw things at him to see if he's real."

Thor shot a weak smile at Loki. "That's…an old joke. He's real, but sometimes he likes to trick - that doesn't matter. Loki isn't playing a part. He wakes up my brother and goes to sleep my brother. At no point does his wig fall off. You see? Real hair." He reached over and tousled the locks in question. The friendly touch was clearly meant to also affirm their bond, to show Ragna their easy affection. Admittedly, a small bit of tension eased from Loki's shoulders.

Ragna wrinkled her nose. "But he was blue, and now he looks like you. How is…how is Grandfather's spell different from the berries on Ingvi? Can Uncle Loki not wash it off?" There was a note of fear to her voice now. "Is it stuck on? Is that why it's not pretend anymore?"

Loki couldn't help but chuckle to himself about the source of her horror. _She's not entirely wrong - isn't that the rub? It was pretend, more or less, though I did not know that I was playing. It is true I cannot easily remove this mask - not only because it is 'stuck', but because the mask is me. And the mask did not like finding out what lay beneath it. _

_But,_ he chastened himself, _this is not about you. _This…sickness, this horror that still churned in his gut and always would when he felt his two faces chafe against one another - it would not be her sickness. He would make sure that they were not the same. She feared the correct things. It was already too late for him.

Loki bent down and offered his hand to Ragna.

"This is who I am." he said with a confidence that only came to the best of liars. "It is the shape I have worn all my life, and it is - my default. My natural state. But that was because…things were not…safe for me, to be as I was. Not like now. You will never be asked to look like anything other than yourself, and that is a wonderful thing. You are a wonderful thing. It would be a shame to hide you away. You are very special, Ragna - and everyone who sees you knows it." He pulled at his pocket universe and produced a bloom he had picked on Orlon IX. Bright, yellow, reaching upwards. He placed it behind her similarly yellow ear. "Flowers do best in sunlight," he smiled.

She reached out and touched his face, pulling at the flesh as if to check that the colour didn't wear off in her palm. "So you'll never…you'll always look like this?"

"I hope not. That moustache was certainly not always there," Thor laughed. "And it could do with better filling out."

Ragna ignored him. "I want to see. You're magic. You could…if you wanted."

"Ragna, that's enough," Thor chastised. "You're being rude."

"But I want to see," she insisted. "Why does he get to choose, and I have to be yellow all the time? It's safe now, he said, but if it's safe for me then why is it not safe for him? Why is he different? I want to choose too."

_Wherever I go, it seems conflict of some kind follows. Father was not wrong._ This was going exactly the way Loki hadn't wanted it to. How could he expect otherwise, when all he said was 'Do as I say is for the best, not as I do myself?'

Loki swallowed. "One day you'll understand," _And isn't that the go-to response of the adult putting up the white flag? You're too little, you couldn't possibly understand and I do not care to explain so you would. Instead, I condescend and say you are currently incapable and inferior and must be waited upon to improve. _

Is that how his parents had thought? That they could not tell him, that he would not understand? That if they waited, one day he would miraculously become the sort of person who could 'handle the truth'? _How silly it was of me to try and be more like father, and then not anything like. I was always like him, no matter in which direction I strove._

"When you are older, you can choose," he said finally. "But trust me when I say this is better." _Father thought he knew best too, and even now I do not know if he was wrong or right._ "One day, Ragna, you'll think I am a very silly man." _And you will pity me._

"I think you're silly now," she quipped. "If I could do magic, I would be a different colour every day."

Loki started. Then wanted to laugh. _I forget, sometimes, that she does not attach the same meaning. _Is that all it was? Just plain envy over aesthetic freedom? Had it been so simple, so…childish?

"Yes. I am a very silly uncle." he patted her hair as if consoling himself. "But at least I am not as silly-looking at my niece, with all that grass on her head."

Ragna looked confused, then seemed to feel the tickle as her hair shifted colour and texture. She brushed her hand over it, and her hooded expression opened into wonder.

"Such a shame. We shall have to water you like a plant tonight, and that not-quail sounded so delicious…but we can't waste it on topiary," Loki teased.

"Can you turn it purple? That's my favourite colour," Ragna said, clearly not as invested in dinner as she was in this new trick.

"Hmm. I'll check the back, see if we have that in stock. Ah, yes - we've got lilac, we've got magenta…and it comes in Palatinate, as well." He tapped her head after saying the name of each shade, and it changed to match.

Ragna blinked, grabbing fistfuls of hair and staring, entranced. Then she looked directly at him, and said "Show me how," in a voice that anyone who didn't know her would think was monotone.

"Well, it is simply a matter of understanding how wavelengths work. You see, when light hits certain…"

They finished the walk to Thor's family home, where a pregnant Idona was waiting, calmly sitting at the table and chopping potatoes. She had her feet up, and an expression that clearly stated 'you didn't expect me to cook dinner alone in my condition, did you?'

When at last they were all sitting and eating, Loki had a chance to share his tales of how he'd out-witted the Grand Vizier of Moord (it involved Loki wearing a stole made of _quakka_ bird feathers and convincing all ten of the Vizier's wives that _quakka_ were extremely fashionable in the Andromeda system, and they were dreadfully behind the times. Within a week he'd started a fashion statement and sold every last stole for millions of credits each, despite _quakkas_ being as common as colds). Thor then took the time to dramatize the more ridiculous calamities of the diplomatic processes with the local government (including the stipulation that they not tread on the grass too much outside their small, temporary settlement, as apparently they were very proud of their general lawn maintenance. There had even been suggestions that the Asgardians learn to hover a few inches above it). Idona then managed to make her woes of sore knees and varicose veins the funniest of the stories by far, purely by flailing her limbs around in a sitting jig.

Throughout it all, Ragna listened quietly, but her attention remained on the flower her Uncle had given her. She filled it with her own magic and tried to change its hue, a little at a time. Occasionally, Loki would lean over and correct her form, or else whisper a small bit of advice into her ear.

When it was time to clean up the dishes, she'd managed to give it a few greenish spots. Before her disappointment could overwhelm her, Loki complimented the changes and called the pattern a distinct improvement.

After, they went outside for a little stargazing (and to let their queasy stomachs finish digesting the rather oily _quakkas _(being a fashion icon had done little to improve their edibility). Idona showed Ragna how to orient herself with the stars, placing her hand over her step-daughter's in order to point and trace the constellations.

"...and that one is Asgard," she demonstrated.

"I thought Asgard was destroyed," Ragna protested.

"It was," Idona affirmed. "Yet the light that it emitted is still travelling through space. It will shine for another millennia here, at least."

"I see," Ragna agreed, clearly deciding she'd been confused enough for one day. She laid back and put her head on Idona's stomach. "It sounds like the ocean," she informed Idona. "Only with more meat in it."

"Two whole pieces of meat," Idona smiled. "Twins can certainly be as overwhelming as the ocean. We're going to have to be a team to take them on. You think you're ready?"

Ragna nodded, her cheeks lighting up like fireflies where they rubbed along Idona's stomach. "They'll be little. I can fight them off, for sure."

She punched her little fist into her palm.

"I'm only kidding," she affirmed immediately afterwards, her face still utterly nonplussed, though hesitant. She looked at Loki. "Do you want to see them?"

"See them?" Loki asked.

Ragna looked at Idona, who nodded encouragingly. The little girl sat up, then began rubbing her hands together. Sparks of light began to build inside her fingers, until her hands were so bright they hurt to look at. Then she pressed them against Idona's belly. It lit up, much like a thumb in front of a lantern. A red orb, with two distinct shadows curled within.

Thor scooched closer to his wife and pressed his hand to her stomach alongside Ragna's.

"Fraternal," he told Loki. "So at least we'll be able to tell them apart. Well, when they're older. Most babies look the same, to be honest. All squished. And blobby."

The twins were facing one another, backs curled against the world. As if each were forming a shield for the other. Already, before they were born, they had an other. Guaranteed someone like them in nearly every way. Then there was the image of their family entire - an older sister, a mother, their father - all reaching out to them, as if to already welcome them. It looked like a warm thing.

"They are very fortunate," Loki said. "They will clearly be loved. Very much."

"Brother, is that a catch I hear in your voice?" Thor teased. "And that is an awful lot of blinking for a dark night with no sun to blind you."

Loki resisted the urge the blot his eyes on his sleeve. "I see no need to apologize for a little emotion. I have been alone on a barely-functional ship for over a year, with nothing but the hissing of broken air vents for conversation and mouldering stoles for company. That sort of deprivation no doubt causes all sorts of emotional unbalances, it's only to be expected I'd -"

At some point during his ramble, Idona had reached over and grabbed his hand, bringing it to rest on her belly with the others.

It _was_ warm. He could feel her pulse under his fingertips. His touch felt so very cool against it, and for a moment he felt a flash of self-conscious worry. He tried to pull back, but Idona held his hand firmly, seeming to anticipate his urge to recoil. Not forcing, but tightly enough that the instinct was stymied. An assurance of welcome.

His mouth was still open. He carped wordlessly for a moment.

"Thank you," he managed.

The shadows within Idona stirred sleepily. The moment stretched, and Loki tried to feel nothing but the happiness and contentedness that it would seem to demand. Still that feeling at the back of his mind seeped through, that voice that declared that he was nothing but a visitor to this peace. At worst, an invader who couldn't help but be a piece out of order, invited in from the cold out of pity and obligation and misspent love. Even here, when it was in his grasp…the warmth felt beyond a window, and he only looking in.

And yet he was invited in anyway. Their strength, their conviction could override his doubt. Though he could not banish the sense that he did not deserve what was so easily given, he could allow himself to accept it.

"Thank you," he repeated. "Thank you."

The moment stretched a while longer.

Then Idona wriggled and muttered "Ragna, it's too hot -"

"Sorry, Idona," Ragna said quickly, lifting her hands. They dimmed like coals thrust into water.

Shortly after that they went to bed. Loki's small, one-room cottage stood in the corner of the plot. His bed was buried under all the various boxes and knick-knacks that had migrated into this room in his absence. Families were always looking for more storage space, and he supposed an empty second residence was just too tempting.

It took some time to dig it out, but he was still not tired when he finished. He lay in the dark, suddenly missing the sounds of the heaving ventilation and whining power cells of his ship. The sounds of the creatures on this new planet distracted him - whoops and trills and insects singing for a mate. The longer he listened, the louder they grew. It was not even really dark - flashes of light came through his window, causing his belongings and the various bits and bobs Thor's family had stored to paint twisted shadows on the walls. Orange light, then greenish. A pink flash. Blue.

He rose again to investigate. The light was coming from the main house, from one of the smaller bedrooms. Ragna's. It seemed she was still trying to change the hue of the flower, and was determined to try all night until she had it.

It brought back memories of hiding under his own blankets to practice spellwork, several lifetimes ago.

Somehow that made the flashes reassuring. He fell asleep soon after, recalling distant memories of holding a snake that grew fur, then feathers, then insectile wings.

When he woke with the sun, it was to see his door ajar and a slightly crumpled flower sitting on his bedside table. It was now entirely blue but for a single petal, which remained the same golden yellow it had been yesterday.


End file.
